


Shoot It Down (in your eyes)

by selinipainter



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Movie Spoilers, at least as far as MCU timeline that we know of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1536107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selinipainter/pseuds/selinipainter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Are you going to leave a path to trace?</i> </p><p>The Winter Soldier doesn't know much, doesn't know his own name and doesn't even know his self. But nothing will remain constant. Nothing is truly eternal.</p><p>And when the ice thaws for the last time, so would the world he knew cease with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Can You Feel It

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for Bucky, because his voice was in my head and I needed to tell his story. The titles as my norm, are taken from songs. A cookie for those who can guess the songs!

_There’s a chance you might be in the wrong business._

 

Steve is eight, scrawny and nearly keeling over from the beating he took. But he cannot give in, he will stand till they knock him down. He watches the fist swing again, closes his eyes and waits for it to knock him out. Only thing is that he doesn’t remember dodging it so why is he still alright?

“James Buchanan Barnes, you can call me Bucky though,” the tall, dark haired boy tells him as he helps Steve up. He seems familiar but for the life of him, he can’t place this boy, where has he seen him. He does not know why this… Bucky is helping him. He follows him past the crumpled body and thanks Bucky when he helps him patch up the wounds and bandage the cuts. After all, mama had always taught him to never look a gift horse in its mouth. Mama would not be happy, no sir.

Bucky sticks his hand out, offering him a licorice. “Rogers, I think we are going to be alright. You know what; I think we’ll be—”

Bucky turns and he listens at the door intently for an instance. Then, he grins, pushes him under a desk and tells him to stay put.

He can’t see much from under there, but he can see a little and hear much more. He listens to him egg the kids on, _why is he helping me, boring sick Rogers, stupid weak little Stevie boy, stupid weakling who won’t stay down, little wuss_. And he sees Bucky run fast, running and never looking back.

* * *

 

The Winter Soldier does not remember anything prior. He only ever knows the present and that is enough. This is his mission; eliminate Nicholas J Fury, director of SHIELD and a problem to HYDRA. Do not care for casualties or consequences, no holds barred. Nicholas Fury has unprecedented levels of paranoia; therefore, he will not easily be taken out. Nicholas Fury does not trust most people, therefore, he cannot be easily compromised.

He might not remember anything of his old life, but the lessons of his old missions, the knowledge that he literally gained through blood and sweat, all this he remembers. They leave him with this muscle memory, and he plans. Urban warfare however small, is not his forte. In mother Russia, there had been no need for disguised plots. He carefully drags Nicholas Fury through a maze of his construction, this is one rat he cannot afford to let slip through. The rat runs the maze and the rat escapes.

Not for long. The Soldier knows of the safe house in the 16th Street NE. He does not see the mark enter, but no matter. They always make mistakes, they always do. He waits. Waits until he gets a clear sighting and he falters then. There is a man who he does not know. But he does. Or does he? Shut down, wake up Soldier.

Aim. Wait. Breathe.

 

 _Breathe_.

 

The mark stands. He breathes deep.

Pull the trigger, once, twice, three times. Empty the clip.

 

_A job for you, Soldier. Simple._

 

He sights the soldier in his rifle, the blond one who carries himself too stiffly to be anything but. He breathes again, pulls the trigger.

Then, he looks up and the Soldier pulls back. No, this one will not die today. Not today. He slings his rifle, a Nikonov. Then, he leaves.

He hears the blond soldier chase after him, but he is faster. He is much faster and he will never be caught. He is only a ghost given form and flesh and you can never catch a ghost.

But he does catch up and he does try to take down the Soldier. The shield comes flying at him.

 

_I had him on the ropes._

_I know you did._

 

For a moment, he feels himself falling. No, he is here and still and there’s blue eyes that glint in the darkness. He knows them. He does not. The Soldier memorises the face, a promise that he will fulfil later. He slings the shield, hard because there’s strength in the metal of his arm and that of the shield, that is the only constant he can trust.

And he runs then. He runs silent and fleet, he is a ghost, a myth. A legend that can never be caught.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a four part fic probably. Going up to the events of Cap 2 and a little beyond. Also working on the next chapters of my two unfinished fics. (to anyone who reads those, I am so sorry. I have been really having a bad couple of months)
> 
> The updates for all these three fics would likely be in a month's time as I have AS finals in May. I have written the bulk of the second chapter of this fic, save for one small scene.
> 
> Thank you for reading this!


	2. All You Had

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which ice is a constant and Steve draws.

The Soldier does not know much about his new targets. Three of them, one an ex-Special Force. Samuel Wilson, 32 years of age. Capable. Two tours with a long list of successful missions. Threat assessment: Moderate.

The second, Natasha Romanoff. Age unknown, formerly of KGB. The most dangerous of the three, and the least known quantity of them too. Threat assessment: Very high.

 

 _Natka_ , a boy whispers. _There is red in my ledger._

 

Target number three: Captain Steven G Rogers. The man frozen in time. Last person to have seen Nicholas Fury alive. Possessing information that could be a threat to HYDRA. Wields a shield and from the Soldier’s encounter, possessing near inhuman abilities. Threat assessment: High.

Eliminate them, as publicly as possible. Secure the information, if able. They have a HYDRA operative, Jasper Sitwell. He too, must be eliminated. HYDRA will not tolerate traitors and moles.

The Soldier will get it done. He is nothing but efficient, and his handlers will not tolerate failure. Maybe if he does this right, he will not have to go on ice again. He hates the cold that wraps around him, being unable to breathe. He can never remember much, nothing beyond what they give him. But the cold, it seeped into his bones, bled through his veins. He carries it with him wherever he goes. He will never forget the 34 times he has been woken up from the ice, the 34 times he has been put on it. This is the only thing he can ever remember from the past. But how could he not?

How do you forget drowning in coldness, how do you forget screaming and screaming as they watch you burn in frost, how do you forget wearing winter in your veins?

You don’t.

The Soldier cannot forget it. So, he takes it and uses it as shield and weapon. Utilizes the thing that should have crippled him, _too dumb to run away from a fight_.

He will not run away from anything, least of all this. Battle is his currency and he will not waver. He runs towards it, he’s a ghost and nothing can ever hurt him.

 

* * *

 

 

He slips into the flat, quiet as a cat. Rather unusual for him, because oh how he loved to storm right in, herald his presence. Steve always thought Bucky was a ruckus, an endless tumult who could never stop talking, much less laughing. People’s eyes were drawn to Bucky that way and that was exactly what he wanted.

There’s paper strewn from the hallway to the kitchen, reams of art block sheets spilling over the couch and all over the tables. The single bottle of drugstore rum lies opened and almost full. Days like these call for liquid courage and he downs half the bottle in one go. The burn as it slides down, reminds him of his duty. He starts gathering the papers and carefully smooths out whatever creases he can. There is an unfinished drawing, with the curve of an arm and nothing more. Another has the shadow of a nose, a mouth and nothing else. Many more have the hints of eyes, blank and unfilled. The last one he picks up though, tucked right under the ragged throw is the most complete.

Sarah Rogers had lived a hard life, raising an only son by herself. A son who by all means should have died as a little baby, she raised him to be the best of his father’s courage and did her best to give him the world. And when Bucky picked up Steve that day in the alley, she took him in and patched up his scrapes before Bucky went home. This one portrait that Steve had drawn, was everything Steve had of his mother. Hair tossed back as she turned to look over her shoulder, mouth curved and her eyes.

 

“Oh, Steve.”

 

He slides down the wall and leans there. He thinks of the little punk from Brooklyn, the one who never learned how to back down from a fight. How he had gritted his teeth and thrown that first punch, he thinks of a little boy who grew up never learning to back down. He thinks of the quiet mother who never scolded her baby boy, instead she only taught him how to swing harder. He thinks of Aunt Sarah and the sugar cookies she always baked whenever he stayed over after Steve had a sick day. He doesn’t know how Steve did it, held it together during the wake because even now, Bucky cannot bear to face him. Not right now, not when all this little home knows now is pain and loss.

He leaves, then. He will return soon, Steve is sleeping after all. He does not run. Bucky will come back when Steve's awake and he will find a way to put him back together. For now, he needs to put himself together again.

 _He does not run_.

His feet just pound the ground at a rushed pace, that is all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that I got Bucky's voice and well, the Winter Soldier's voice right. For the moment, they are two different people. But there are also some Bucky things the Winter Soldier has bleeding through, just a touch. I hope I managed to get that right because I have never really tackled this sort of thing before. 
> 
> And I apologise for the late update, was having exams. Still in the midst of it, I just happen to have nearly three weeks to my final papers. Working on a Loki fanfic now, and after that the next chapter of my Avengers fic.
> 
> Thank you for reading! And all feedback is appreciated and encouraged by Bucky and co.


End file.
